


Memory

by WordsInTheAtmosphere



Category: Lost Dimension (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesia, Comfort, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 19:37:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11653311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsInTheAtmosphere/pseuds/WordsInTheAtmosphere
Summary: Toya loses his memory of the past two years in an unexpected attack, forgetting about his relationship with Sho. Slowly, with some help, he pieces his memories back together and relearns what the past him used to be.





	Memory

He wakes up in the hospital with a soreness that lingers at the back of his head.

 _This is not a good sign_ , comes the first thought, and moving only confirms it. His head bursts into a kaleidoscope of pain, and he bites back a curse as he forces himself to remain still.

“Toya?”

Someone calls his name, and he finally notices the person sitting next to his bed. It’s a man looking worriedly down at him, about his age, and the first thing that catches Toya’s attention is how clear his eyes are, how steady his gaze is. When their eyes connect the man breaks into a warm, watery smile.

“Gods, I’m glad you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Toya flicks his eyes over the man: the clothes he wears are casual, normal, so he is not a doctor or a nurse. He cannot be an associate of his because his clothes don’t look expensive, and the people he knows do not usually dress in this manner. He does not recognize this person with the clear eyes and the steady gaze, and yet he cannot take his eyes off him.

“Well enough,” he says, wondering why this stranger sounds as though he has been waiting for him for a long time, why he looks so close to tears. The throbbing ache at the back of his head suddenly gives him an ominous feeling. “And you are…?”

The smile freezes on the man’s face, and Toya hates the feeling that he is right.

\---

It takes a while, but after examination he is told he has lost his memories of the past two years. When he asks how he lost them in the first place, the man beside him speaks up.

“You were hit from behind,” he says, his voice so quiet that Toya almost doesn’t quite catch it. “You were too focused on the attack from the front.”

“You were there?”

“No. I saw it.”

His answer is confusing, because Toya doesn’t quite understand how he can see this happen without being there, but the man looks so pained that he doesn’t feel like pressing him. “Thank you, uh…?”

He trails off, politely waiting for his visitor to give him a name, and it is as if the reality of his memory loss has finally sunk in, because the man looks stunned like as if Toya had hit him. 

“Sho.”

“Thank you, Sho.” It’s no good. The name does not sound familiar to him. Still, he speaks as kindly as he can because it’s obvious that his visitor is taking this hard. “May I ask how we know each other?”

Sho now looks straight at him, and Toya still isn’t used to how beautiful and clear his eyes are, almost uncomfortably so. “We are lovers,” he says simply, and Toya’s mind draws a complete and utter blank.

“Excuse me?” he manages, because the news is hard to absorb, and the man says it again. There is no trace of hesitation in his voice, no hint of a lie in his eyes, and still Toya finds it difficult to believe. The doctor suddenly interrupts with a heavy sigh.

“It’s true,” the doctor tells him curtly, getting up to leave. “You two are lovers. Rather obnoxious ones, if I do say so myself.”

 _And how will you know that?_ Toya thinks, and his expression must have given him away because the doctor smiles, almost in amusement.

“You don’t seem to remember me either, Toya, but we were comrades once.”

The doctor leaves without waiting for Toya’s reply, and he is left wondering just how many people he has forgotten now. 

He asks Sho to explain their current relationship a little more, not because he needs convincing but because now he feels that he needs to remember for Sho’s sake. It’s all a little too much to take in; right now, all he knows about himself is that he is not capable of being the man Sho is describing. _This isn’t me_ , he thinks, and perhaps he used to be, but right now he is not. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “May I have some time to think about this?”

Sho lowers his head, hiding his face from Toya, and agrees.

\---

When he is discharged from the hospital, his grandpa comes to fetch him.

It’s a relief to finally see someone he recognizes that he hasn’t lost his memories of. His grandpa’s face is sterner than usual, sharper than usual, and it’s been a long time but Toya almost feels like a child again, about to be scolded by his grandpa for misbehaving, for putting himself in danger.

“Your belongings,” his grandpa says, his voice clipped and tight, and Toya understands that he has been worried for a long time. He accepts his belongings, which really only consist of his phone and some files he doesn’t remember having.

“I’m sorry,” he tells his grandpa as they head to their limousine. “I heard I was attacked. I should’ve been more careful.”

He braces himself for his grandpa’s reprimanding words, but they do not come. Instead, his grandpa’s voice is quiet. “Don’t scare me like that again, Toya. I never want to receive a phone call like that again.”

\---

The first thing he needs to do is to ask around about Sho, gather solid data and evidence of their relationship.

The task is a little harder when he doesn’t recall anyone for the past two years, or at least anyone who knows of him and Sho. His first thought is of the doctor at the hospital, so he goes there to see him.

"You do realize I'm far too busy to help you with your love life, yes?" The doctor says to him, walking into the hospital examination room. Toya gets up from his seat out of politeness, but the doctor does not sit and simply stands cross-armed at the door, so he doesn't sit either.

"Sojiro, yes? You've said we were comrades once. I'm sorry. I still don't remember anything."

Sojiro waves away his apology, looking far from bothered. "I might as well give your head a checkup since you're here. Sit down and ask your questions."

Toya doesn't argue, and while Sojiro checks his head he tries to think of what he wants to know, what he used to know but no longer does.

"In what way were we obnoxious?" He finally blurts out, and it's all he can think to ask. Sojiro chuckles from behind him.

"Obnoxious? Did I say that?" The doctor is silent for a while before he continues. "You two were never loud about it, but both of you often used to sneak glances at each other when you thought no one would notice." He shrugs at the memory, a memory that doesn't sound at all familiar to Toya. "When you think about it, the human psyche works quite similar to the body. It was fine in small doses, but when one is exposed too much to something, that something becomes rather sickening. So yes, obnoxious, in the kind of way that is quiet and numerous until you've had enough."

The metaphors this man uses are almost insulting, but the meaning is there. Toya smiles, finding that he does not dislike this man, that this man is curiously interesting. "So, you're saying we were like a disease?"

"Of the worst kind," Sojiro reassures him.

\---

Sojiro gives him a name before Toya leaves.

“Perhaps it’ll help to talk to people you know,” he says, writing down the address onto a prescription note. “You used to talk a lot with her.”

So he goes to see this military officer, with a name that sounds familiar only because his work sometimes tied into the military too. She is a woman of grace and stature, with a manner that speaks of the weariness of someone who has been made to grow up too soon, too quickly. He immediately feels a connection, even though he does not remember her. 

“Shishiouka?” He asks, and she smiles a little sadly.

“Nagi. Call me Nagi. I’ve heard you’ve lost your memories, but I didn’t know it’s this severe.”

They chat for a while, and he learns more about SEALED, about everyone he has forgotten, about their Gifts, Sho’s Gift. None of the memories Nagi brings up sound familiar, no matter how hard he tries. There isn’t anything he can do but apologize, always apologizing, and yet Nagi doesn’t seem to mind.

“How is Sho doing?” Her question is careful, and Toya takes the opportunity to ask about his relationship with the man.

“He hasn’t complained, but I don’t think he’s taking it well. That’s why I’m trying to remember.” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "How were we like? Sho and I, I mean."

"Two halves of each other." Nagi's reply is immediate, short and simple. The description is so cliché that it's humorous, and he can't help but smile wryly.

"Me? Really?" It's not a strange question to ask, because he can't ever imagine himself being in a typical relationship with anyone. He isn't enough. There isn't enough of him to be a piece to anyone's half.

She looks at him, and the sad expression on her face is unnerving. He isn't used to being pitied like this, like as if he has lost something of grave importance when he doesn't remember enough to understand the loss.

"You were whole, Toya."

\--

He runs into his grandpa when he arrives home. 

“You were out,” his grandpa says, and though he isn’t asking, Toya feels the need to explain himself.

“Yes. I’m asking around, because I’ve heard I have a lover right now.” He watches his grandpa’s face carefully but his grandpa is guarded—too guarded, as usual. “I’ve met him. He doesn’t seem like the type you would approve of.”

“I don’t approve,” his grandpa responds, but his tone sounds like he has already given up this fight a while ago, has already made peace with this fact. His grandpa, the one who always needs to control, who always worried about the future, who never surrendered to anything, has caved in.

“Why?” The surprise is too much for Toya to stay silent. “You’re not going to stop me from remembering him?”

“Two years have passed, Toya. You are still two years behind.” His grandpa is out of time, so he moves to the front door. “I trust you are old enough to make your own mistakes.”

And then he is gone, and Toya wonders about the magnitude of this relationship that has caused a giant to bend his knee.

\---

He has finally heard enough, so he decides to text Sho.

Sho has kept his word and stayed away, has waited for Toya to contact him first. When he switches on his phone, the past text history between him and Sho feels strangely unsettling. He does not recognize himself in the text messages he had sent, a past him in a memory that he no longer owns. He looks at the strange, heartfelt words written by another him and feels like he is intruding into something he shouldn't.

It's a ridiculous thought because the messages belong to him, and yet he can't help but feel guilty. He skims through the messages before deciding he has seen enough. For a moment he understands what Sho has lost, even if he doesn't remember it himself. He punches in a short, polite message, agonizes if it's too distant, too polite, wonders what the old him would've wrote.

Sho replies quickly to his text.

_May I call you now? I want to hear your voice._

The request is almost uncomfortably intimate before Toya remembers that they are still in a relationship, at least to Sho. He hesitates, and then calls.

"Toya?"

Sho's voice is hopeful when he answers, and the guilt threatens to swallow Toya whole, even if he does not remember being in love with this person, this stranger on the other line.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I don't remember much."

“That’s okay,” Sho replies a little too quickly, “I expected that much. I just want to listen to you talk for tonight. Is that alright?”

“Yes.” Toya answers before he can think of what exactly he is meant to talk about, and then mentally kicks himself. “Err, just me talking?”

There is silence on the other end, so he keeps going, searching for the words to fill the air between them. 

“I talked to some people today, about us. We sounded close.” He thinks back on the way he reacted to Sho, reacted to the news of their relationship when he did not recall its existence at all. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I would’ve been more careful in my choice of words when I asked for space.”

“It’s not your fault.” Sho’s voice is quiet, but Toya feels a little relieved when he hears the other man speak. “You were—are—confused.”

“Yes, but you’re the one who remembers. It hurts a lot more for you.” When the words leave his mouth he immediately regrets it, because it sounds as though he isn’t hurting because he no longer cares. “Wait, that’s not—I mean—”

“Please, don’t apologize. If anything, it’s my fault.”

“Why?” Toya asks, and Sho doesn’t answer. It doesn’t take much to sense Sho’s guilt, and so he changes the topic.

“You said we lived together, yes? If it’s alright, I would like to have a look.”

“Really? When?” Sho’s voice lightens, and Toya smiles to himself. It seems the past him had chosen an honest person to love. _Is he always this easy to read?_ He wonders.

“Whenever is convenient for you.”

“Tomorrow?” Sho hesitates, and Toya can almost sense his embarrassment at his eagerness. “That is—we lived together, so there isn’t much to change. You can come over whenever you want.”

“Okay. Tomorrow,” Toya promises.

\--- 

The apartment they used to share is much smaller than Toya expected.

He looks around the place with curiosity, notes the small things that belong to him lying scattered about. They are physical evidence that he had lived here once, together with Sho. As he pulls out a book from the shelf, a book that belongs to him, Sho hands him a drink.

“Tea,” Sho says, and Toya accepts the cup. It’s a particular tea he is not familiar with, but when he sips the hot liquid the taste is oddly nostalgic.

The small looks Sho keeps giving him are hard to ignore, so Toya puts on a polite smile.

“What is it?”

“Is it okay if I—if I touch you?” Sho blurts out, and then hastily adds, “I don’t mean anything by it. I just want to hold you.”

The question is sudden, but Toya senses the insecurity in Sho’s voice, senses that Sho is looking for comfort. He puts down the tea and holds out an arm awkwardly. How had he held Sho in the past?

Sho wraps his arms around Toya’s waist, settling against him. The weight is familiar, even if he does not remember being this intimate with anyone before. Sho leans against him, hesitant at first, and then he grows bolder and buries his face into his shoulder. It feels like he is reconfirming that Toya is here, beside him. A small, relieved sigh warms Toya’s skin.

“Gods, I’m so glad you’re alright.”

Ah. He holds Sho close, feels the arms wrapped around him tighten. “Yes, I’m alright. Perhaps in time things will go back to the way they used to be.”

“I’m sorry. This is my fault.” Sho starts again, and Toya is reminded of their phone conversation the night before. “I foresaw it, but I wasn’t in time. If only I’d been in time, this would have never—you would still have your memories.”

This is Sho’s Gift, the power of vision. Toya doesn’t need to remember what he knows of Sho to understand his guilt, to know that the burden is far too heavy for anyone to carry alone. 

“Now you’re just being ridiculous. You’re not responsible for everyone, Sho.”

 _Least of all me_ , he thinks. Sho’s grip on him tightens until it’s almost painful. “At least for you, Toya, I wanted that much. Gods, they say I’ve saved lives with my Gift, but I can’t even protect you.”

So, Sho is the type to hold himself responsible for things he can’t control. “You can’t do this to yourself,” he hears himself say. The words leave him before he has time to worry about what the past him would’ve said instead. 

Sho laughs, sounding sad. “I know. You’ve said that to me before too.”

\---

That night, Sho offers to sleep on the sofa.

“No, it’s fine. Sleep here with me.” Toya moves over to make space, and Sho climbs in next to him. Having company in bed is new, but it isn’t unpleasant. Sho’s warmth is soothing, and though he’d expected things to be awkward he finds himself too exhausted to care. He is already dozing when he feels Sho wrap an arm around him, press his forehead against his back.

It’s impossible to turn over, so Toya doesn’t move away. “Sho?”

“Sorry. I’m not usually like this,” Sho mumbles into his back. “It’s just—when I think about how you could’ve just—I’m glad you’re here. That’s all.”

Sho’s voice trails off weakly, and Toya recalls that Sho has been sleeping alone for weeks now with only his thoughts to distract him. He understands that well, and so he places a hand over Sho’s.

“I’m here,” he whispers. “I’m just making my way back to you.”

Sho smiles into his back and entwines their fingers together. The warmth of their joined hands feels nostalgic, an echo of a life he used to live not so long ago. He tucks this memory, old or new, into the back of his mind.

\---

It is only a few days later when Toya asks Sho if he can kiss him.

Their lips meet, hesitant at first, but Sho lets Toya lead. The touch makes Toya’s heart ache in his chest, almost painfully so, a strange feeling of wanting to return home but not knowing where home is. He leans into the kiss to soothe it, and Sho’s fingers trace the outline of his shoulders, light and feathery and warm, and it is Sho’s touch that eases the ache, that deepens it a little more. He leans into the kiss, looking for an excuse not to pull away, and Sho does not resist when he presses him down onto the sofa. 

 _Home_ , he thinks, or two halves of each other, like Nagi had once told him. He laughed then because it seemed so ridiculous that he can be enough to feel this way, but the ache in his heart is undeniable proof that he is different now, that this relationship has changed him. When Sho wraps his arms around Toya’s neck, fitting himself against his body, it feels like this is where he is meant to be. When Sho presses another kiss to his mouth, their breaths mixing between them until he cannot tell where his ends and Sho’s begins, his heart thrums with a rhythm that feels both familiar and new. It’s overwhelming and yet pleasant, too much and yet too little, and he laughs quietly when they have had their fill of each other. 

“I remember what it feels like to be in love with you,” he tells Sho, and Sho smiles back.

“You’re the same as always,” he says, and his voice is warm with affection. “I’d thought you’d kill me eventually with those lines, but now I find it’s harder to live without them.”

It is only then that Toya realizes he has long stopped wondering what the past him would’ve done, because now everything feels so natural when he is with Sho. It’s confusing how it feels like they have done this countless of times before, entwined in each other and speaking of nothing and everything, listening to the sounds of breaths and heartbeats. Sho pulls him closer, and for a moment Toya feels like nothing is missing inside of him because Sho completes him entirely, a piece misplaced and found.

He is not quite the same person Sho once loved, and yet there is still love to be found here; with each small, missing piece it feels like he is relearning something his heart has always known. And perhaps he will never find every single piece—there is always the risk of missing something, of never really quite remembering every detail he would’ve known once upon a time—but he finds that the thought no longer worries him, and from the look in Sho’s eyes he knows his partner will feel the same too. This, too, will pass; they will get through this together.

 _In time,_ he thinks, and Sho kisses him and whispers, “In time.”

* * *

 


End file.
